


Like the Heart Goes

by castielshoneybee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Chuck doesn't take care of himself when he's writing, Chuck is adorable, Depression, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Happy Ending, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 11, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielshoneybee/pseuds/castielshoneybee
Summary: Reader moves to a new town and gets a job at a local bookshop, where she meets Chuck.





	1. Happy, and Lonely, and Free

You're sitting on a stool behind the counter of the small bookshop. You'd recently moved to town and we're lucky to not only find a job, but to find one where you get to be surrounded by books. You can spend hours devouring them. You're currently rereading one of your favorites, _Dragonflight_ , by Anne McCaffery. Just as you're getting to one of the best parts, the bells above the door jingle. You sigh, closing the book and looking up. A man walks in. He's not tall, probably only an inch or two taller than you, wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and a green jacket. He has shaggy brown hair and a closely cropped beard and moustache. He's pretty good looking, if you're being honest with yourself, but you're not sure you're ready to go there yet. He approaches the counter. 

“Hey, you're new! I'm Chuck.” You introduce yourself. When he gets closer to shake your hand, you notice his arresting blue eyes. Suddenly, you feel shy. Something about this man is different, but in a good way. It's almost as if you feel peace radiating from him.

“So...um...are you looking for anything in particular today, Chuck, or are you just browsing?” You fall back into saleswoman mode to cover the strange way Chuck makes you feel.

“Just browsing. What are you reading?” You show him the cover. “Oh, I haven't read her, but I've heard great things.” You find your voice easily when it comes to talking about one of your favorite authors. You gush over the Pern series, leading Chuck over to the shelves where they live.

“You can read them chronologically or in publication order, though I prefer publication order. It's fun discovering things about the planet's past along with the characters. It's sort of like Star Wars. You should never show a newbie the prequels first. You need to discover Vader is Luke’s father along with him.” Chuck looks at you in horror. 

“Wait, Darth Vader is Luke’s father?” You clap your hand over your mouth and gasp.

“I'm so sorry! I just assumed you'd seen them! Well, don't I feel like an ass.” Chuck starts laughing. 

“I'm just messing with you. I've seen them.” You slap him playfully on the arm.

“Jerk! You made me think I was a spoiler!” You both laugh, and Chuck leaves the store soon after, carrying a bag containing the first Dragonriders of Pern novel.

****

The next day, Chuck comes back in.

“Hey, Chuck! Back already?”

“Yeah, I finished _Dragonflight_. It was great! I need to get the next one.”

“Already? You're a man after my own heart.” You laugh a little and take him over to the shelf, plucking the second novel off and handing it to him.

“She really knows how to immerse you in her world. That's tough for a writer. I got totally caught up in it. Thank you for introducing me to her.” His smile sends butterflies shooting through your stomach. You make small talk, discussing the book and the characters. You talk about your favorite parts, and he shares some of his as you ring him up.

“So, uh, I'll see you when you finish this one?”

“Count on it.” He smiles again, and your insides turn to goo. “Well, I'll see you.”

“Bye, Chuck.” Your eyes follow him out the door and down the street until he's out of view. 

****

You and Chuck fall into a pattern. He comes by every day or two to pick up the next book, and the two of you talk about the book he's just finished. The days he doesn't come in really suck, and you find yourself spending the day half reading your book while you wait for him to walk through the door. Finally, the day you've been dreading arrives. Only one more book. No more reason for him to come in so often. The thought of not seeing him makes you sad.

“Hey!”

“Hey, Chuck! So, bad news. This is the last book.” He frowns. “I know, it sucks. Now we both have to wait for the next one to be published, and we're going to have to find you something else to read.” He looks at you with a strange expression. It doesn't seem like he's just bummed about the book. “What's up?”

“So, um, ah, I was thinking, maybe, if you want, we could, um, get a coffee or lunch or something?” The last few words are rushed, as if he wants to get them out before he loses his nerve. Holy crap, Chuck is asking you out. You will yourself to stay cool.

“I'd like that a lot.” He's visibly relieved. He gives you a brilliant smile that lights up his gorgeous eyes. “I'm off tomorrow.” You grab a scrap of paper and write down your phone number and address. When you hand it to him, your fingers brush his, and you feel electricity pass through your fingertips. He agrees to pick you up for lunch, then grabs his book and leaves the store, periodically looking back at you as he goes.

****

“So, what brought you here?” You're sitting in a little cafe finishing up a delicious lunch. You hesitate before you answer his question.

“I had a really bad break up and needed a fresh start.”

“Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.” He unconsciously reaches out and squeezes your hand. You squeeze back, then leave your hand in his.

“It's okay. We almost got married. Three months before the wedding, I found out he was cheating on me with a barista. It ended up pretty ugly. I don't have any family, so I decided I needed to start over, and here I am.”

“Why here?”

“I don't know, to be honest. I packed my stuff up and just started driving. When I got here, it just seemed right, like it was time for me to stop running.” Chuck looks at you with admiration.

“Wow, that was really brave, just leaving with no destination. I can't imagine that wasn't scary.”

“It was terrifying.” He smiles at you, and you feel your heart race.

“Well, I'm glad you did it.” You smile back, and he grips your hand tighter.

“Me too.”

****

“So, you had me talking about myself all through lunch. Now it's your turn.” You’d decided to take a walk through the farmer's market. The two of you wander and browse the stalls hand in hand. “I don't even know what you do for a living.”

“I'm a writer.” His voice is shy, almost as if he's embarrassed. “But I'm afraid I'm not a very good one.” You stop walking and turn toward him, putting your free hand on his arm. 

“I'm sure that's not true. What do you write? Have you been published?”

“This is kind of embarrassing. Uh, have you heard of the _Supernatural_ books? Not many people have. Anyway, I wrote them.”

“I've seen them in the shop, but I haven't read them yet. I've actually been meaning to because I heard the author was a local. That's really cool! I do a little writing myself.”

“Really? What do you write?”

“Mostly Twilight fan fiction.”

“Um, okay. That's...neat.” You want to stay serious, but you can't keep the smile off your face.

“I'm messing with you. I write poetry.”

“Oh, thank God. I was about to stop this date cold.” You laugh, leaning into him as you do, then continue walking back toward Chuck's car.

“I think I've laughed more today than I have in months, Chuck. Thank you.” You've reached the car, and you're reluctant for the date to end. He smiles warmly at you, then leans toward you, placing a small kiss on your lips. You look at one another for a moment, faces only inches apart, then your mouths come together again. You part your lips, and Chuck begins to explore your mouth with his tongue. There's no urgency; it feels as if you have all the time in the world. This just feels right, as if the purpose of everything that's happened to you in your life has been to lead you to this man. The surge of feelings overwhelms you, and you pull away. 

“Is something wrong? Was that okay?” He looks at you, concerned and maybe a little frightened.

“Yes, no, I mean...I don't know. I guess I'm scared. I really like you, Chuck, but my last relationship ended so badly, I think it's made me a little gun shy.” Chuck gathers you to him, hugging you tight. You melt into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I understand. We can take things as slowly as you need to. I have all the time in the world.” You just stand like that, wrapped in one another's arms, for what feels like forever. You pull back a little so you can look into his eyes.

“Thank you. What do you say you take me home, then tomorrow you come over to my house, and I'll cook for you?” His smile lights up his face, and it makes your heart melt.

“I would absolutely love that.” He opens the car door for you, and you climb inside. When you arrive at your place, he leans across the seat and gives you a small, tender kiss. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“You'd better. 7:00.” You smile, then climb out of the car. He waits for you to get to your door and get safely inside before he drives away, and you watch him through the window until the car is out of sight. You sigh, then start planning tomorrow's menu.


	2. Happy, and Homely, and Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck comes over for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut!

You're puttering around the kitchen, swaying to the music, when the doorbell rings. You nervously check yourself in the hallway mirror, then open the door to find Chuck holding a bottle of wine. His eyes widen when he sees you. 

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. Jack never used to compliment your appearance, even when you were first dating.

“Thanks. You too. I mean, you don't look beautiful, you look handsome.” You sigh, annoyed with your awkwardness. “You know what I mean.” Chuck lets out a little laugh, smile wide.

“Thank you. I brought wine.” He passes the bottle to you and leans in to give you a peck on the lips.

“Thanks. This'll go great with the lasagna. Come on in.” You step aside so he can come in the door. He stands in the hallway, unsure of what to do with himself, as you close the door and turn to him. You step to him and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in for a hug. You lean back and look into each other's eyes, then lean toward each other for a sweet kiss. Just as the kiss begins to deepen, you smell something burning. “Crap! The bread!” You let him go, thrust the wine bottle into his hands, and dart toward the kitchen. He trails behind you, chuckling. Smoke pours from the oven when you open the door and pull out a tray containing the blackened remnants of the bread. You look at one another for a beat, then start giggling.

“I don't need the carbs anyway.”

“You sure you don't want a piece?” You gingerly pick up one of the pieces and move it toward him..“Here comes the airplane!” You start making vroom noises as you advance on him.

“Gah! No!” He ducks under your arm and plucks the bread from your hand, grabbing you around the waist from behind and moving it toward your mouth. “You have it!”

“Mm mm!” You clamp your mouth shut and turn your head as the blackened crust gets dangerously close to your face. Chuck laughs and throws the bread on the counter, then moves his hand to join the other around your waist as he nuzzles your neck. You sigh and lean back against him, closing your eyes and resting your hands on his. It feels so good to be close to him.

“Is this Woody Guthrie? I love him. ”

“Me too! I love old folk music. It's so gentle, but it has such conviction.” You let out a contented sigh that turns into a giggle when you feel Chuck's stomach growl against your back. You feel him smile against your neck. “So, dinner?” He nods and breaks away from you. “Get the salad out of the fridge. Dressing’s in the door.” He heads over to the fridge, and you finish setting the table, placing the pan of lasagna in the middle and sitting down.

“Where's your corkscrew?”

“Middle drawer.” Chuck retrieves it and opens the wine, then joins you at the table.

****

“So, wait, all three of you rode down the hill together on one inner tube?” Chuck is sitting, elbows on the table and chin in his hand, listening with rapt interest to your story. 

“Yeah. It was fine at first, but we didn't know there was a one foot drop off at the bottom. We got air, and when we hit the ground we bit it hard. We all ended up slamming face first into the snow. Needless to say, we were done sledding for the evening after our inaugural run.” His laughter is infectious. “You want to head into the living room and finish our wine?”

“Sure. Let me help you with the dishes.” He picks up his dessert plate and heads for the sink. 

“Don't worry about it. I'll get them in the morning.” You move into the living room and snuggle up together on the couch. Chuck takes the wine glass out of your hand and sets it on the table, then leans toward you, covering your mouth with his, his hand landing on your thigh as the other rests at your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck. Your breaths mingle as you explore one another's mouths. You feel almost as giddy as a teenager. He breaks the kiss and moves down to plant little kisses on your neck. The tiny pecks feel like brands, and you throw your head back, letting out a little moan. The hand on your thigh caresses it gently, so close to your center. You run your hands down his back, dipping them under his shirt and running them back up. You need to feel his skin. The kisses on your neck are open mouthed now, and he intersperses them with nibbles. The hand on your waist begins moving up toward your breasts. Suddenly, he stops and pulls away, rubbing his temples. “Chuck, are you okay?

“It’s a headache. I get them sometimes. I have to go. I'll call you, okay? I had a really good time tonight. ” He gives you a peck on the lips and gets up. He's out the door before you can even really respond. You can't help but wonder what you did wrong. 

****

You haven't heard from Chuck in four days, and you're starting to worry. You're scared that you did something to drive him away, and you're worried that something might have happened to him. You try to call him, but it goes directly to voicemail every time. Finally, you can't stand it anymore and pick up the phone to call your boss.

“Hey, Paula, you know that guy Chuck that comes into the shop? Do you happen to know where he lives?” You feel stupid telling her you want to stalk a guy who may have blown you off, so you make something up. “I promised him I'd loan him an out of print book I have, and I just found it in my boxes, so I thought I'd take it to him.” She gives you the address, and you thank her and hang up the phone.

****

You sit in front of Chuck’s house for at least fifteen minutes, trying to get up the nerve to go up and knock on the door. Steeling yourself, you finally get out of the car. You see movement when you ring the doorbell. Okay, he's alive. That's good, but it also means he may not want to see you. He opens the door. He looks terrible. He's wearing his boxers, a t-shirt, and a dingy robe, and it doesn't look like he's showered in days.

“Chuck, what's going on?”

“Hey, what day is it?”

“Thursday. What the hell happened?”

“Thursday? Really? I'm sorry, come in.” His home is dimly lit, and it’s full of clutter. You half expect to see a dead cat poking out from under the couch. You follow him into the living room as Chuck moves papers from the couch cushions so the two of you can sit. “I've been writing.”

“So you practically bolt out of my house complaining of a headache, then ghost on me, and all you can say is you were writing?”

“Yeah, but I can explain.” You cross your arms expectantly. “You're going to think I'm crazy.”

“Try me.”

“Okay. See, I don't just make up my stories. They come to me in visions. I get a headache, then I take some aspirin and drink until I pass out, then the stories come to me in dreams.”

“You're right, that does sound crazy, and it's not a very healthy way to come up with story ideas.”

“Yeah, I know, but it's just the way it has to be.” He looks down at his hands. "I'm really sorry for running out like that. I hope you can forgive me, and maybe give me another chance?” He looks up through his eyelashes at you. Puppy dog eyes, really? Still, he seems sincere.

“Okay, but on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Please go take a shower." He laughs. 

"You got it." He gets up to go shower but stops when you softly add one more thing. 

“I thought I did something wrong.” He sits in front of you on the coffee table. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong. I had no choice. I had to write. It would've driven me crazy if I hadn't, and I kind of lose myself when I do.” He looks haggard. You smile tenderly, forgiving him.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I had some toast. I think it was Monday. ”

“That was three days ago! Go get in the shower. I'll make you something to eat.” You head into the kitchen to assess the contents of the fridge. You settle on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some chips since the fridge is pretty much empty. 

****

When Chuck comes out of the bathroom, he looks a hundred times better. He sits at the table and gratefully digs into his sandwich, polishing it off in a few bites.

“You want another one?” He smiles sheepishly at you. 

“Would you mind?” You pat his hand as you set a cup of coffee in front of him.

“I wouldn't have asked if I did.” You turn back to the counter and slap together another sandwich, placing it on the plate in front of him, then sit down across from him. “So, what are you writing?”

“Another _Supernatural_ story. It's getting kind of intense.” He glances toward the living room, where you assume he writes. He finishes up the food, so you get up and take his plate to put it in the sink. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, kissing your hair. “Thank you,” he whispers. You turn in his arms and drape yourself around his neck. He leans in and kisses you sweetly. You slant your lips, opening your mouth in invitation. His tongue explores you, passion flaring as the kiss deepens. You run your hands through his hair, still damp from his shower. He presses you against the counter and moves his lips across your jaw and down your neck. One hand leaves your hip and snakes up your shirt to cup your breast, softly kneading it.

“Chuck?” He freezes.

“Is this okay? Do you want to stop?” His eyes meet yours, and suddenly you don't know why you were so scared. This man looking at you with such care and concern is nothing like Jack, and your heart swells.

“God, no. But can we go somewhere a little more comfortable?” You give him a coy look. “Maybe your bedroom?” A huge grin breaks across his face, and he grabs your hand and practically drags you out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hall.

“I'm sorry it's so messy. I wasn't expecting…”

“Chuck? Shut up. I don't care.” You throw yourself into his arms, kissing him with a wild abandon you didn't know you had in you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss long enough to drag it over your head and remove his own. The feel of his skin against yours just makes you want more, and you fumble with his belt, relieved when you finally get it unbuckled. You break apart to get your pants off, looking at one another and giggling as you both pull down your jeans. Chuck stands in front of you, his gaze moving up and down your body, eyes filled with hunger. You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, letting it drop down your shoulders and fall to the floor. He sucks in a sharp breath before he launches himself at you, catching your mouth in a hungry kiss, tongues battling as your hands roam over one another's bare skin. You break the kiss and attack his neck, kissing, licking, and sucking every spot you can. He groans and throws his head back, urging you on. You move down, raining kisses along his collarbone, then take one of his nipples into your mouth. His gasp is followed by a moan, his hands carding through your hair as pleasure washes through him. You move to give the other nipple equal attention, earning another moan. 

“Bed,” he growls, backing you up until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress and you fall onto it, pulling him with you. His weight knocks the breath out of you. He shifts to the side. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His mouth clamps onto your neck, and he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down until he reaches your breast, where he runs his tongue around your nipple before capturing it in his mouth. A shiver runs through you as he moves to the other nipple. His hand roams down across your stomach and dips under the hem of your panties. A finger slips into your slit, teasing at your clit and tearing a moan from your lips. 

“So wet," he mumbles, mouth still full of breast. He adds another finger, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through you, gathering in a knot in your stomach. The pressure increases as he begins rubbing faster. His free hand slides up your arm, twining his fingers with yours. When you think you can't take any more, you break, crying out and writhing against his hand. He slows his motion, gently taking you through your orgasm. You lie under him, panting, as he releases your hand and reaches down to pull your panties off. You lift your hips to assist him and he raises himself up to pull them down your legs before removing his boxers. “I've gotta have you, baby.”

“Then have me, Chuck,” you whisper, “all of me.” He stares into your eyes as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pauses.

“Shit, I don't know if I have a condom.”

“Pill, we're good.” He doesn't hesitate, thrusting into you to the hilt. He pauses, eyes locked with yours as he leans over, arms on either side to hold himself up. You gently thrust your hips, and Chuck begins to move. You wrap your legs around him, digging your heels into his ass, and thrust your hips in time with his, moving in perfect union. He shifts a little, and the slight change in angle causes him to hit your g-spot with every thrust. His pace increases, causing you to teeter on the edge. His thrusts become erratic, and he spills himself into you on a groan, the feeling of him filling you up sending you over edge, clawing at his back as he drops onto you, spent. He rolls over onto his back, and you turn to your side to snuggle against his shoulder. After a few moments, the chill in the room against your bare skin causes you to shiver. 

“Cold?”

“A little.”

“Come on, let's get under the blankets.” You crawl up the bed and climb in. Chuck pulls you to him, the big spoon to your little spoon. You lie in silence, and you soon realize he's fallen asleep. He probably hasn't slept in days. You wiggle closer, and his arms tighten around you unconsciously. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of safety and contentment in his embrace, and join him in sleep.


	3. Happy, and Holy, and Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find some things out about Chuck that change your world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: depression, suicidal thoughts
> 
> It has a happy ending, though!

“Hey, babe? Where do you want these?” You show him the papers, and he motions to a pile in the corner. You and Chuck had fallen into an easy routine. After work, you run home, then head over to Chuck’s. You make dinner and clean while he writes, then you spend the night, heading home in the morning to get ready for work. You move around the living room, putting books on shelves and organizing papers. It's a big job. Chuck's the kind of guy who tunes everything out when he's writing, neglecting himself and his home for the work. It's a bit of an irritating quirk, but you kind of admire his dedication. You glance over at him, smiling. He notices and takes his glasses off, setting them on the desk and crooking his finger at you. You take the few steps to the desk, and he pulls you down onto his lap.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His words warm your heart, and you grab his face to give him a kiss.

“Yeah, but I don't mind hearing it again.” You sit there for a minute, grinning at one another.

“So, I was thinking…” He looks a little unsure of himself. 

“What?”

“Well, you spend most of your time here, so I was thinking, maybe, you might want to bring your stuff over here?” You'd had that thought more than once yourself, especially in the morning when you had to go all the way home before work, but you hadn't wanted to be the one to bring it up. 

“Chuck Shurley, are you asking me to move in with you?” He smiles. It's shy.

“I guess I am.”

“I'd love to.”

****

The visions are scary. It's like he's not himself. You have to force him to eat, sleep, and take care of himself. When he comes back to you, he's always so grateful for your help, you can't bear to tell him how they almost break you.

****

Chuck's immersed in writing when his phone rings, so you answer it.

“Hello?”

“Uh...is Chuck there?”

“He's writing. Who's calling?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean…” Chuck hears you and takes the phone.

“I got this, sweetheart.” He puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dean.” You pick your book back up, but you can't help but listen to Chuck's side of the conversation. “Yeah, that ended a while ago. She was psycho.” He must be talking about that crazy fangirl he dated before you. “No, she's great. We're living together.” You smile because he's obviously referring to you. “Uh, yeah. Let me get my notes.” He moves out of earshot, so you turn your attention back to your book. You're just finishing the _Supernatural_ series, and they're pretty good. Dean Winchester? You wonder if Chuck named the character after him. They must be old friends. Eventually, Chuck comes back into the room and sits back down at his desk.

“So, who's Dean Winchester? Did you name your character after him?”

“Sort of.” He gets up from the desk and sits down beside you on the couch. “You're going to find this out eventually, so I might as well tell you now. Dean Winchester…” A lightbulb goes off.

“He is the Dean from the books, isn't he?” Chuck stares at you, nonplussed.

“How…”

“I knew those dreams weren't just your writing process. They're too scary, too, I don't know, otherworldly.” Everything comes spilling out. “They're terrifying, Chuck. I'm afraid for you every time. It's like you leave me, replaced by some sort of automaton. You write and ignore everything. I'm always afraid you won't come back to me. What are they? Psychic visions?”

“Not exactly. I'm a prophet. They're visions from God.”

“From God. So all that stuff in the books is real? It all actually happened?”

“Yeah, it happened, and it continues to happen. I write it all down, but I stopped publishing it at Sam and Dean's request. I didn't know them when I started writing them.”

“You met them when you did in the books.”

“Yeah.”

“Chuck, I don't know if I can deal with this. I need some time.”

“Okay, we'll talk when you get home from work.”

“No, I think I'm going to see if I can stay with Paula for a few days.” Chuck looks down at his hands. He closes his eyes and nods his head. You get up from the couch, go upstairs and pack a few things, and call Paula. When you come back downstairs, Chuck is sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He looks up at you, eyes shining. Your whisper cuts through the silence like a knife. “Goodbye, Chuck.” His head falls back into his hands as the door closes.

****

It’s been five days. Chuck hasn't tried to call you and hasn't come into the shop. You suppose he's trying to give you space, but the thought that he wouldn't fight for you breaks your heart. Paula tries to comfort you. She thinks you had a fight, and you let her. You're torn between ending things with Chuck and accepting them. A prophet. That’s hardcore. He’s been one the entire time you've been together, but knowing it just changes everything. Knowing all the stuff in those books is real, angels, demons, monsters, it's mind blowing. Vampires are real. That's terrifying. You're going over it in your mind yet again when your phone goes off. It's a text message. From Chuck.

_Know that I love you. I always have, and I always will._

He's never said I love you before. Something sends up red flags. The text feels final. You grab your purse and race home. He's gone. All of his things are still there. His laptop and phone are sitting on his desk, but he's just gone. You sink onto the couch, and the silence surrounds you. You feel empty. You imagine this is what it must feel like to have a dementor suck away all your happiness. You briefly wonder if dementors are real, then let out a bitter laugh. That's when the tears come, coursing warm and salty down your cheeks.

****

*click* That's the last one. It's been two months since Chuck disappeared. You filed a missing persons report, but nothing came of it. Since then, you've felt compelled to publish his remaining work. It gives you something to focus on. Knowing Sam and Dean didn't want him publishing, you've been posting them as fanfiction. You rub your eyes. When you open them, a man is standing in front of you. You let out a little shriek.

“Where is Chuck?”

“Please don't hurt me!”

“I'm not going to hurt you. Where is Chuck?”

“He's gone. I don't know where. Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel.”

“The angel?” You relax a little.

“Yes. What do you mean he's gone?”

“He disappeared. He left everything and just vanished two months ago.”

“That’s when Lucifer was put back into the cage. He must be dead. I'm sorry.” In a flash, he's gone. You thought you'd cried every last tear, but you were wrong.

****

It's been another month. Since you finished posting Chuck’s remaining work, you've found it harder and harder to get up in the morning. You spend most days in bed, the bed you shared with him. You pray. You never were religious, but knowing God is real now, you can't stop yourself from praying to him. You pray that Chuck is alive, that somehow he'll find his way back to you, that somehow this incomplete feeling will go away. Finally, one day, it's too much. Just before you fall asleep, you pray for him to take you. If Chuck is dead like Castiel said, you want to be too.

****

You awaken, groggy, to the feeling of familiar arms around you, pulling you in tight. You're dreaming of him again. You snuggle in closer, willing yourself to stay asleep. It feels different, though, more real. Maybe God answered your prayer and you're dead and with him again. You open your eyes and turn your head. Eyes like the bluest sky look back at you.

“Am I dead?”

“No, sweetheart. You're alive, and so am I.” In your half awake state, the words barely register.

“I prayed for God to kill me.”

“I know. I heard you. That's why I came back.” You sit up, fully awake now.

“What are you talking about? Where were you? Why did you leave me?” The tears come unbidden.

“I...I thought it would be better. I thought you'd get over me, be better off without me. You didn't take the idea of me being a prophet so well, so I couldn't tell you the real truth. But you weren't okay, and neither was I. When you prayed for death, I couldn't stay away anymore.”

“What do you mean, the real truth? And how could you know what I prayed?” Chuck sighs.

“I'm not a prophet. I'm God.”

“You're God? The God? Almighty God?” Somehow, it’s easy to believe.

“Yeah. You okay?”

“Am I okay? You asshole! You left me! I thought you were dead! You heard me praying day after day and did nothing!” You beat your fists against his chest. “You told me you loved me then disappeared! You let me be miserable on purpose! I love you, and you destroyed me!” You fall against him, sobbing and spent. He wraps his arms around you, letting you get it all out. Your breath hitches, and your sobs turn to whimpers. Your whisper is barely audible. “You left me.” His is equally soft. 

“I'm sorry.” You cling to him as if he'll disappear at any moment, and he holds you tightly to him, unwilling to let you go again. You pull away to look into his eyes.

“Don't do it again.”

“Never.” He leans toward you and kisses you, and it quickly deepens, releasing months of pent up longing from both of you.

“I need to feel your skin.” It seems as if you can't get your clothes off fast enough. You crash together as soon as they're off, kissing and touching every inch of one another, neither of you able to get enough. You push Chuck onto his back and kiss a trail down his stomach, stopping to nip at his hip bone before continuing down. When you reach his erection, you look up at his face. He's staring down at you, eyes hooded, pupils blown with lust. When you take him into your mouth, he groans and drops his head onto the pillow. You glide him in and out, relishing in the feel of him. He cards his fingers through your hair, holding on as if his life depends on it, and begins to move his hips, so you increase your speed to match the pace he sets. The sound of his moans increases your wetness, and you press your thighs together to try to give yourself some friction. He thrusts a few more times, then spills himself down your throat. You milk the last few drops, swallowing them down, then crawl up his body to capture his mouth in a deep kiss. Suddenly, he flips you onto your back, reversing your positions.

“Your turn.” He nips at your neck, then moves down to tease at your nipples with his tongue. You arch against him, and he clamps his mouth down, sucking hard. He moves to do the same to the other, then travels down, dipping his tongue into your belly button and making you giggle. You feel his smile against your skin as he kisses his way down to your center. He dips his tongue between your folds, moaning as he makes contact with your clit and sending vibrations straight to your core. His tongue masterfully plays at your clit as he thrusts two fingers into your wet heat, crooking his fingers to hit that sweet spot that drives you wild. You moan in time with his thrusts, the coil of tension in your stomach growing and growing. He increases his pace as you tangle your hands in his curls, urging him to take you over your peak. It doesn't take long before you feel your release, crying out as your walls close around his fingers. He climbs up to kiss you, thrusting his again hard cock into you as your lips meet. You gasp into his mouth, not quite recovered from your orgasm. He sets a relentless pace, and you thrust your hips up to match him. You quickly feel the pressure rising again as he worships your mouth. He moves onto his knees, grabbing your ankles and placing one on each shoulder so he can move faster. One hand reaches down, and he rubs his thumb against your swollen, sensitive clit, sending you over the edge again. The feel of your walls spasming around him is too much for him, and he spills into you on a grunt. He pulls your ankles off his shoulders and falls to your side, draping his arm around your stomach and resting his head against your shoulder.

“God, I missed you.” You realize what you said and giggle. “That's weird.” He laughs and kisses your shoulder. 

“You love me.” His voice is reverent. 

“Yeah, I do. So what? You love me too.”

“I really do.”

****

“You ready, sweetheart?” You come down the stairs with a small bag slung over your shoulder. It contains a few favorite pieces of clothing and a couple books.

“As I'll ever be.” You walk up to him, wrapping yourself in his arms. He gazes lovingly into your eyes, and the two of you disappear.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck has to battle Amara, but where does that leave the reader?

You bustle around the kitchen, humming a little tune Chuck had been playing earlier. You're excited to have a guest, even though it's Metatron. You've heard the stories. Still, it’s been a long while since you've talked to anyone but Chuck. It’s nice to see a new face. You pick up the plates and back out the swinging door.

“I made you some sandwiches.” Chuck sits nervously, watching Metatron read his manuscript. He’s let you read snippets, but he hasn't let you read the ending. Whenever you ask, he just goes all River Song on you. “Spoilers, sweetie.” It was funny the first time. You grab a seat in the booth behind Chuck and pick up your book.

****

It wasn't supposed to end like this. Hell, it wasn't supposed to end at all. You sit at the bar table, arms wrapped around Chuck, his head cradled against your breast. He’s getting weaker as the sun dims. Sam comes over to check on you, then leaves you alone. Chuck lifts his head and looks into your eyes. 

“Hey.” His voice sounds brittle. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I wish you didn't have to go.”

“Me too.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, then lays his head back down. You close your eyes and rest your cheek on his curls. A moment later, you jolt as your arms close over thin air. You sit, numb, unable to even feel enough to cry, and wait for the world to end.

But it doesn't end. The sun begins to brighten.  
You follow the others outside and stand watching the world come back to life. Chuck is dead, and it's all still here. Dean succeeded. That means he's dead too. You look at Sam, who wordlessly pulls you into a hug. The tears finally come. After long moments, everyone prepares to go their separate ways. You stand, adrift.

“Hey, what're you going to do now?” Sam looks at you kindly. 

“I don't know. I'm sure the house has long been foreclosed on and sold.”

“Come back to the bunker with me and Cas. You can stay there until you figure out your next move.” Relief washes over you. 

“Thanks, Sam, just let me run inside and get my bag.”

“Sure thing.” You turn and open the door to the bar, but when you step through, you find yourself in a spacious, well appointed bedroom. It's simple and beautiful, exactly how you’d decorate it if you lived here. But where the hell is here? And how did you get here?

“Hi.” You wheel around at the sound of that familiar voice. The voice of home. He’s leaning against the door frame, and you're in his arms in seconds.

“You're alive!” You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent and clutching him tighter than you ever have before. 

“I am, thanks to Dean. He's alive too, by the way, and so is my sister. Speaking of whom…”

“What?” You pull your head up to look at his face. 

“I have to go away for a while.”

“What? Why? I just got you back!”

“I know, but I have to mend some fences with Amara.” You sigh. You hate it, but you understand.

“Do you have to go now?” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I think I have a little time.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips part, and your mouths fuse together in a long, languid, passionate kiss. He guides you backwards toward the bed until your knees hit the edge and buckle. You bounce a little on the mattress, vaguely registering that it's memory foam. Nice. You scramble up the bed until you're lying in the center, propped up on your elbows.

“So, since we're a little pressed for time, wanna do something about these clothes?” Chuck grins and twitches his fingers. You feel your nipples tighten at the sudden cool air kissing them. He crawls up the bed and covers your body with his, his weight comforting and warm. He presses his open mouth to your neck, his moustache and beard scraping the delicate skin there. You reach around and clutch his back, fingers playing over the firm muscles of his shoulders. You slide them down, squeezing when you reach his ass. He moans at the sensation, and the vibrations against your skin send heat to your core. His mouth travels down to your breasts, sucking and licking each nipple as his hand snakes down between your legs. His fingers dance over your clit, sending ripples of pleasure through you. “Chuck, I want your mouth on me.” He looks up at you with a sexy smirk, then slides down your body and situates himself between your legs. He doesn't waste any time and licks a stripe up your slit before dipping his tongue between your folds, lightly touching your clit with the tip and causing you to strain toward him. You marvel at the way he plays your body like he does his guitar. No one has ever been able to pull as much pleasure out of you as he does. He circles your clit with his tongue, then pushes two fingers into you. He thrusts them in and out of you, slowly at first, then increasing his pace. His tongue continues drawing lazy circles around your clit, at odds with the speed of his fingers. Your body coils tighter than an E string, and sensing the tension coursing through you, he increases the speed of his tongue. He adds a third finger, and the extra pressure sends you over the edge, writhing and screaming your release. He doesn't give you time to recover before he moves up your body, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss as he drives himself home. Tongues, lips, and moans tangle as he thrusts into you. He breaks the kiss and looks deeply into your eyes. His thrusts increase, and your instinct is to close your eyes and just feel him, but his eyes are captivating, such a dark blue with his lust. He draws you in until there's nothing but you and him, your bodies entwined, your eyes locked together. You feel yourself moving closer to another orgasm as his movements falter. He leans down and kisses you again, his hand reaching between your bodies. His fingers press your clit, and it sends you over the edge, your walls tightening around him. He groans against your lips as you squeeze him into his release. You lie panting against one another, both of you reluctant to move, until finally Chuck rolls off you, pulling you with him so you're lying face to face. He gently kisses you and rests his hand against your cheek. 

“You know I love you, and I promise you I'll be back. Please don't be sad.”

“I'll be sad; I can't help that. But it won't be like last time. This time I know where you are, and I know you'll be back. Hey, where are we, anyway?”

“Tuscany. I know you've always wanted to see it. The house is yours, all bills paid, and there's a bank account for you in town with enough money for you to live comfortably.”

“But you didn't know how it would turn out. How did you do all of this so fast?”

“God, remember?” He smiles a gentle smile. “If it had happened the other way, there was a letter at the bunker for you explaining everything. I wasn't about to leave again without taking care of you.” Tears prick your eyes, and one escapes. He gently wipes it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, baby. It's not for good, and when I get back, we'll be together again forever.”

“I don't want you to go.”

“I know, but you know I have to, for everyone's sake.”

“I know. Try to come back soon, okay?”

“I'll be back as soon as I can. I have to go now. He pulls you in for a hug. You try to memorize the feel of his skin against yours and feel cold when he lets go of you, kisses your forehead, and gets up from the bed. You watch him God-flick his clothes back on. He turns to you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiles, and then he's gone. You lie there for a few minutes, quietly weeping, then get yourself together, get your clothes on, and start exploring your new home.


End file.
